Communication

Here is my Senegal phone number, and calls are always welcome but can be expensive! (Google calling and international texting is pretty cheap I think...)

Senegal is 5 hours ahead of the East coast in the States. FYI. :)

(221) 77 487 1097

My address for now is

Corps de la Paix
B.P 299
Thies, Senegal
West Africa.

Bismillah! 

A Musing on Development

I've been thinking a lot lately about international development and my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The issue of sustainability, lodged into our heads from the very beginning by the records and records of failed projects, continues to be a main concern. Senegal, a small country with over 200 volunteers, is well-known for innovative, successful work within the Peace Corps community. This is, in my opinion, due to the fact that the program focuses on cross-sectoral work, emphasizing collaboration between volunteers to the greatest extent. In Niger I was prepared to spend multiple days sitting and staring into space; that won't be the case here. 

As we become more and more immersed in local African culture, I begin to question my intrusion into these peoples' lives. Sometimes I wonder what right I have to come here, to preach about a better lifestyle, and to try and incite change. I worry about the effect I might have, positively or negatively. Of course this is ultimately an arrogant thought, for likely I won't be changing anything. 

It struck me, as I left Niger, that the local people in my village seemed indifferent to my arrival but devastated at my departure. This fact has been churning in my mind ever since. Did my presence mean something greater than I realized? By the time I left, I hadn't done anything to warrant my being missed. I'd only been there for eight days. Perhaps the impact of Peace Corps' withdrawal from Niger cannot help but be felt by its people, after so many years of service. That alone serves as proof that we did something. 

The debate about foreign aid in Africa rages on in intellectual circles. Why does the continent continue to be underdeveloped? Is it the culture, the climate, the poor structure, the political instability? A combination, surely. 

Cultural barriers are by far the widest and tallest. "I won't bring my son to the clinic because it is God's will that he be sick." At times I find myself wondering what right I have to question this statement, a dangerous position to take as an aid worker. It's easy to allow oneself to be sucked into the richness of African life and ignore the harder aspects, especially for me, one who doesn't suffer from hunger or thirst. The difficult part comes in seeing beyond the laughing, smiling teeth and looking into the hollowed eyes and sharp rib cages. I believe there is a better lifestyle awaiting those who will work for it (that's why I'm here, isn't it?) and I have to get over my hesitation of convincing those who will listen. But sometimes it's easier to eat my plain rice and laugh along with everybody else. 

<3 Phoebe 

"Wo-Holiday"

In Hausa, Wohala means "suffering", so Niger volunteers have aptly named the past two weeks a "Wo-holiday." It's amusing now to recall my anxiety about moving into site, when in fact, I had no idea what I was in for.
The first week at my post was eventful, to say the least. I worked in the health clinic every day, learning the basics of pre-natal exams (taking measurements, doing consultations, filling out the forms in French). I walked around the village, greeting, re-greeting, and re-greeting people, as custom demands. In terms of work and village life, I was slowly beginning to see myself settling in.

My house was another story - what a nightmare. Some of you may recall my excitement at having electricity and ceiling fans, but in reality the house was not only big, filthy, rat/bat infested, but also occupied when I arrived, causing slight confusion. My installation was done without half of my belongings because the one car couldn't fit everything belonging to the six trainees being installed on the same day (don't get me started) and so I lived in literal dirt piles for eight days with no means to do laundry or clean my house. The highlight of the house was the rat vs. bat battles that took place each night, during which I started taking bets just to keep myself entertained.

After four consecutive sleepless nights, it was beginning to become an issue. But then we got evacuated, so problem solved!

If you haven't already heard the news, Peace Corps Niger is officially on suspension due to security threats in Niamey. Three weeks ago, French aid workers were kidnapped and killed in the capital by an undetermined contingent, but that was just the bean that tipped the balance. Rumors say our program had been hanging on a thread for quite some time.  I returned from the clinic one morning after eight days in ville, saw that I had fourteen missed calls from the Niger Safety and Security officer, and got the bad news.

The evacuation was quick and successful, as far as Washington is concerned. For us, it was too fast, too painful and too chaotic. We were told on Wednesday that the program was finished and to be ready to be picked up the following day. We were flown out of the country early Friday morning and deposited in Rabat, Morocco, a window to the developed world we'd all but forgotten about.

In Rabat we attended a "transition conference", the existence of which is a sad testament to the frequency of such situations. We were offered various options including re-enrollment, direct transfer, or close of service. I was offered a slot to transfer to Senegal to work with Urban Development, and after much consideration, I took it. I was flown to Senegal last night and have arrived safely at the Peace Corps training site with seven other Niger "refugees" (if you will).

Direct transfer is a weird beast. We are able to continue service with only a few weeks of language training, and we can re-negotiate our close of service dates. I'm especially excited about the program I'm entering. However, we're not part of any particular training class, and we're put in regions without getting a chance to know any of the current volunteers. It is, as some say, a rather "hardcore" option to take and I think it will be worth the struggle. But it's definitely a day to day process!

The week and a half in Rabat was stressful and also delightful, hence the genesis of the term "Wo-Holiday." The fracturing of our class is heartbreaking and thoughts of the Nigerien staff and people we left behind are ever prevalent. Inshallah, Peace Corps will return to Niger, because it was a truly wonderful program.

I'll be continuing this blog with my new Senegalese adventure, so after my few weeks of training I'll let you know all about my new site! Keep Niger in your thoughts, and to all my fellow displaced volunteers, best wishes.

<3 Phoebe

The REAL Beginning

Celebrating Christmas in Niger was a little weird, I’ll be honest.

We began the week with the Supervisor’s Conference, a two day affair in which a significant Nigerien member of every new post came to our training site to debate cultural barriers and common expectations. To relive this experience, you should think of angry gesturing, much shouting, awkward interactions in Zarma and few accomplishments. I did meet a staff member of the clinic where I’ll be working, but instead of making a productive work schedule, she asked me questions about America. I don’t know about America! I’m in Niger!

After two days of the stress of hosting and interacting with our Nigerien counterparts, we said goodbye to them and hello to bureaucratic nightmare. Mounds of paperwork, rules, regulations, and logistics followed us well into Christmas Eve.  And then, without the usual buildup or Hallmark advertisements, surrounded by hundreds of Muslims, Peace Corps Niger celebrated Christmas.

There wasn’t a lot of energy (physical or mental) to spare for the holidays as our training came to a rapid close. We spent days preparing for our final language test, and after I’d explained why I wanted to do Peace Corps for the eight hundredth time (but first in Zarma) we moved on to our swear-in ceremony at the U.S Embassy.  The Ambassador was on crutches and thus waved at us from the balcony of her expansive residence instead of attending the talks. The ceremony itself was quick and painless – we heard representatives from the US and Nigerien governments as well as the Peace Corps Country director, fumbled through our oath of service in English and then in French, and without any further fuss were declared official volunteers.  I drank about seven sodas (they were free!) and felt rather ill later on, but it was worth it.

As we enter the New Year, there are many changes coming up for me and for many of you. I think it’s appropriate to cite some resolutions that will later be discarded, as such things usually are.

1.)    Kala suru. (have patience…)

2.)    Kala suru (have patience…)

3.)    Kala suru (have patience…)

That’s it!

I’m not sure who is reading this blog, but for those of you who know me well, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to see how patient I’ve become. I sometimes feel strangled by American concepts of punctuality and productivity, as such things in Niger simply operate differently and I've yet to shed what has been wired into me. Patience is required in abundance. The other personality trait that is a saving grace in Niger is a sense of humor, which I have thankfully been blessed with. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated by hordes of children yelling “Hello stranger! What is your name! What is your name!” we reply “My name is towel.  My name is soap. My name is poopface.” We laugh as children repeat the names, then forget and ask again the next day.

Small successes also need to be rewarded, something I’ve fallen out of habit with. For example, I wanted a dress to be made for our swear-in ceremony. I negotiated for fabric in the market, brought it to the tailor, explained what I wanted and paid a bargain price. I felt pretty darn proud of myself until I picked up the dress and realized it had so much excess fabric around the waist it would be been better as maternity clothing. Not all women in Niger are pregnant! Oh well, you can’t win them all. I wore it anyways.

I am currently sitting in the Dosso region hostel, waiting until tomorrow when I’ll be officially installed into my village. Installation is a logistical nightmare for Peace Corps, for two reasons: first, we are required to perform all sorts of meaningless protocol i.e. meeting with the Governor, the Chief of Police, the Prefet, the Sultan, and not just of Dosso proper but of our individual smaller regions as well. I’ve had to sit through several meetings in French, nod prettily and smile as if I had any idea what was being said to me. I’d better get used to that, I suppose.

Secondly, fifteen people need to be installed in the time period between this Monday and Thursday, for Niger holds its first democratic elections on Friday and we are not allowed to leave our posts for safety issues. Third world elections are always a tricky business.  Installations consist of loading two years’ worth of luggage, furniture, housewares and storage onto one small car, driving it up to 5 hours, unloading, and holding a small town meeting to announce our arrival. To accomplish this for fifteen people in the span of four days seems near impossible, but they’ve made it work so far. Inshallah I will be moving tomorrow and my next blog will describe my first (and hardest) month at post.

Happy New Year – and so it begins!

Phoebe